


All That Glitters

by Melanie_b



Series: Breaking The Ice [2]
Category: Kabby fandom, The 100 (TV)
Genre: Abby is grumpy, But also not, Canon Divergent, Cold, Cuddles, F/M, Fluff, Happy times, Life in the valley, Marcus is a saint, Sequel, Smut, Snow, cuddling for warmth, first winter, life on earth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:08:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28545348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melanie_b/pseuds/Melanie_b
Summary: Mini-sequel to Breaking The Ice, set a couple of months after they come to the ground. Abby and Marcus are settling in to life in the valley, but not everything is as pleasant as they expected it to be.This is a sequel to Breaking The Ice but can also be read as a stand alone fic. Abby and Marcus and some of the Arkers are living in the valley with Diyoza and some of Eligius.
Relationships: Abby Griffin/Marcus Kane
Series: Breaking The Ice [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2091267
Comments: 45
Kudos: 52





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Foxy100](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxy100/gifts), [Goroslin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goroslin/gifts).



> Happy birthday Sandy! 
> 
> This fic is for you and Val, and I’ll post it between now and Val’s birthday on Friday! I hope you like it, I think it’s particularly apt for the two of you! 
> 
> Thank you for being such amazing friends and for all of your support! I love you both!

Ingratitude is an unfamiliar sentiment to Abby. It sits in her limbs like lead, weighing her down, like a guilty secret she can’t tell anyone. She’s always prided herself on her positivity, on being able to see the good in everything - well, except when her cryopod had malfunctioned, and she’d found out she was going to spend the rest of her days alone with Marcus Kane, but look how that had turned out. Life is full of unexpected twists, and nothing is ever as bad as it seems.

Except for _this._

She didn’t see it coming, really. It snuck up on her - on all of them - in the form of a falling leaf, or a misted window pane. An extra sweater here, or an unexpected cloud of breath there. Nothing significant, nothing that could possibly have prepared her for what was coming. It has seeped into her bones, day by day, until it is useless to deny the obvious any longer. 

Winter has arrived. And she hates it.

 _Hates_ it.

Abby isn’t an ungrateful person. She’s grateful every day, that she’s alive, and for the life they have on Earth. She’s grateful that she has Marcus, that they’re together, and she’s grateful Clarke is here. She’s grateful that the rest of their people are safe, even if they’re still in cryosleep for now. 

She would just be a little bit _more_ grateful if it weren’t so fucking cold. 

The cold makes her bones ache and her face sting. Her nose is constantly red and her fingers are blue. She can’t feel her toes most of them time, and her eyes water when the icy northern wind blasts down the valley, like it has somewhere important to go, only to change its mind and whip back up the valley again. 

She’s _not_ ungrateful. She just hasn’t been warm in more than twenty-six days. Not that she’s counting. 

And of course, it just has to be that on the coldest night of the year, when the thermometer must be plummeting well below freezing, Abby wakes up at two am because she needs to use the bathroom. And this is a problem, because the communal toilet block is two hundred metres down the village. 

She tosses and turns, trying to get back to sleep, and inwardly bemoaning her misfortune. She’s cold, and her bladder is full, but to empty her bladder she’ll need to get even colder, and that’s not an option that appeals to her. She snuggles closer to Marcus, trying to draw warmth from him, and he grunts in protest as her icy feet make contact with his legs. 

“Abby! God!!!”

She rolls out of bed and pulls some socks on, then gets back in and pulls the covers over her. “Better?” she asks, but he’s already snoring again. _Men,_ she thinks. She wonders if she can run to the nearest tree instead of all the way to the toilet block, but she decides against it. It would not look good for Dr Griffin’s bare ass to be seen poking out of the bushes in the moonlight.

It’s no good. She throws back the covers and climbs out of bed, and searches around the bedroom for her jacket. Her hands fall first on Marcus’s sweater, so she pulls that on, and then her jacket too. It’s tight over his sweater, but it’s warm. By the front door she pushes her feet into her boots and then stomps down the steps and across the grass, muttering under her breath about goddamn stupid _seasons._

It’s _freezing._ By the time she gets back to bed her muscles are rigid with cold, her teeth are chattering and she can no longer feel her nose. She takes her boots and jacket off but decides to keep Marcus’s sweater since it’s soft and warm. 

She gets into bed behind Marcus and wraps her arms around him, her legs crooked into his, trying to suck his warmth from him. She must be like a blast of glacial air, though, because he stirs and brings his hand to cover hers. 

“You’re cold.”

“Freezing.”

He lifts his t-shirt and places her hands on the warm soft skin of his stomach, with only a sharp intake of breath betraying his discomfort. Abby sighs in relief as his heat radiates through her. He’s a _saint._

“Thank you.” She kisses his shoulder, and squeezes him more tightly to her. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” he says sleepily. 

Abby’s wide awake after her polar excursion to the bathroom. She rests her cheek against his back, staring up at the shadows on the ceiling, and slowly moves her hands upwards, towards his chest, until she feels the soft ridges of his muscles. She smiles. She loves his chest. 

As her fingers wander idly over his skin, a different kind of ache forms in her groin, and a pleasant idea takes shape in her head. Sex would definitely warm her up, and send her to sleep too. She lets her hand travel south, letting him know what’s on her mind, and is rewarded with a soft moan as her hand brushes against the front of his shorts. 

“Really? Now?”

“I’m cold and I can’t sleep,” she murmurs against his shoulder. 

“So you want me to make love to you to warm you up?”

“Now there’s an idea.”

“Come here then.” He turns over in bed and gathers her to him, and she melts into the solid comfort of his arms. “What on earth are you wearing?” he mutters as his hand navigates the rolls and folds of his sweater, trying to make contact with her skin. 

“Your sweater.”

“Oh.” He raises himself up to see better, and in the moonlight that’s filtering through the window she can see his lopsided smile. “Very sexy.”

She rolls her eyes. “Survival is not about being _sexy,_ Marcus –“

“I’m serious. I love you in my clothes.” His hand has finally found her body and he pulls her closer, slipping his hand inside her pyjama pants to slide them down over her hips. He chuckles again when they reach her ankles. _“And_ my socks?”

“Do you want me to take them off?” She has to agree that thick socks and nothing else is not attractive. 

“No, leave them.” He buries his face in her neck, kissing her until she squirms and gasps, and she can feel how ready for her he is against her thigh. This makes her smile. He’s always ready for her. She wraps her legs around him and just like that he’s inside her, and suddenly she’s _very_ warm. He’s everywhere, on top of her and around her and inside her, radiating his heat through her, and she feels her body turning soft and liquid.

“Is this okay?” he whispers as he begins to move, and she nods.

“It’s perfect.” She strokes his beard, her heart swelling with love at the look of pleasure on his face as he moves in and out of her. She loves him so much, she’s so lucky to have him always by her side, always putting her first. 

See, she’s _not_ ungrateful. She closes her eyes, giving herself up to the pure, physical feel of him, his arms holding her tightly, his cock inside her filling her beautifully, the soft grunts of pleasure he gives with every thrust sending little waves of pleasure through her, and she forgets everything else and just lets him transport her away from this bitterly cold night.

……………

When she opens her eyes again, the sun is streaming through the window, and she feels wonderfully rested and cozy. She wonders for a moment why she’s wearing his thick sweater and socks and nothing else in bed, and then she remembers. 

Oh God. She’d fallen asleep in the middle of having sex. 

Oh _God._ He is never going to let her forget this. 

She rolls over and kisses him softly, and he opens one eye. 

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

“Morning,” she says, cringing slightly and bracing herself for his next comment. 

He smirks. “Well, that’s a first.”

“Marcus, I’m so sorry! I was just so cold and tired. Are you offended?” 

“That you wake me up to have sex and then fall asleep when I’m inside you? A little, yes.” His eyes are twinkling though, and she can see he’s teasing her, trying to make her feel guilty.

“I’ll make it up to you,” she says, her voice full of promise, and his eyes darken with lust.

“Oh, really?”

“Really. Anything you want. And I promise this time I’ll stay awake.”

“How can a man say no to an offer like that?” he grins, pulling her on top of him and capturing her mouth in a kiss. 

…………….

That day is even colder. The ground is solid and the grass is rigid and white with frost. Her breath comes out in huge white clouds as she makes her way to medical, where Clarke is waiting for her outside, stamping her feet and hugging herself to keep warm. Inside they light the stove - thankfully the council had voted for her to have extra rations of firewood, so they are able to warm the room to a temperature that means they stop shivering and are able to actually move their fingers. They’re treating the last of the sick Eligius crew, and the patients need to be able to take their shirts off without dying of hypothermia in the process. 

There are three people booked in for that day, but just before lunch John Murphy and Finn Collins are brought in, wet and freezing and suffering from actual hypothermia. Their task that morning had been to try to catch some fish through the ice on the small lake, and of course they’d fallen through the ice into the frigid water below. On top of that, three more people have come in with typical cold symptoms, and Abby has her hands full. 

“For the record,” she grumbles to Clarke as she searches for decongestants in the cupboard. “I hate winter.”

“I’m not a fan either,” says Clarke. “But it’s pretty when it’s all white and frosty in the morning. I can’t wait for the snow.”

Abby screws her nose up in distaste at the idea, but is brought up short by Marcus at the door, holding two mugs of something steaming hot and inviting. 

“I brought you coffee,” he says, holding out one mug to her and one to Clarke. The women take it from him eagerly with murmured thanks of appreciation, sipping gratefully at the hot bitter liquid. The coffee is chicory coffee, made from the roots of the endive plant, since there are no coffee crops in the valley, but it’s revitalising and warming. 

“I thought you’d prefer coffee to tea,” Marcus goes on. “It will help to keep you awake. I wouldn’t want you falling asleep on the job.”

Abby nearly chokes on her drink. She glares at him indignantly, but he just smiles at her in angelic innocence. 

“Have you not been sleeping well, mom?” Clarke asks over her mug, and Abby is about to mumble something incoherent about the cold, but Marcus beats her to it.

“Oh no,” he says. “Your mom’s been sleeping _very_ well. Too well, really. She just nods off everywhere.”

She cannot believe him. She knew he’d never let her live this down. She shoots him a look so cold that it must lower the room temperature by ten degrees. “Don’t you have places to be?” she says with an icy smile. 

“I’m on a break,” he says cheerfully. “So I thought I’d spend it with my favourite girls.”

“That’s sweet,” says Clarke with a smile, but Abby knows better, of course. She knows he’s just come by to torment her. Well, she’s not going to give him the satisfaction. 

“Unfortunately I have patients to see,” she says, putting her mug on her desk and turning towards the door to the small ward, where Murphy and Finn are in bed. Clarke stops her.

“Don’t be silly, mom. You stay and have your break with Marcus. I’ll check on the boys.” And with that she leaves the room, and they can hear her dulcet tones enquiring “S’up, suckers?” from behind the closed door. 

Marcus laughs. “Her bedside manner needs some work.”

Abby rolls her eyes. “Yeah. To be fair, they give as good as they get. Like someone else I know,” she adds pointedly.

He steps towards her and takes her in his arms. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist teasing you.” 

She gives a small, exasperated shake of her head. “Tell me again why I love you?” 

He blinks, suddenly serious. “Abby, you know I never know how to answer questions like that.”

God, he melts her heart every time. In some ways he’s still so baffled by her love for him, and it’s endearing. She wraps her arms around his neck, and pulls him in to kiss him, her outrage at his teasing forgotten. “It’s okay,” she says. “I already know the answer.”

…………...

The day gets colder and colder, the sky heavier and heavier with thick grey clouds. By mid afternoon it’s clear that snow is on its way, and sure enough, as Abby is walking home that evening after handing medical over to Jackson for the night, the first snowflakes begin to drift to the ground. By the time she reaches their cabin the snowflakes are the size of golf balls and the ground and rooftops are covered in a veil of white. 

She has to admit, it looks _quite_ pretty. 

Marcus is waiting for her at home, the table next to the stove laid for dinner, and the soft lamp lit in the corner. It’s the picture of coziness and her heart immediately lifts. Who cares what the weather outside is like when she has _this_ to come home to? She warms her hands over the stove while he dishes up the soup, and soon she’s feeling much warmer inside and out, and she eats her soup and listens to his deep and gentle voice as he tells her about the developments of the day. 

After dinner they play a game of chess until the fire in the stove dies out, and they have no more firewood. Firewood is extremely rationed, due to the need to cut down as few trees as possible. Each household is given two small logs and a few pieces of kindling a day, with instructions to use it well and wisely, for cooking and heating the house in the evening in order to preserve warmth as far into the night as possible. 

Tonight, however, Marcus has a surprise for her. “Close your eyes,” he says, taking her hand and leading her into the bedroom. She does as she’s told, and when she feels her knees hit the bed he says, “Okay, you can open them now!”

Her eyes fall immediately on a pale grey comforter on the bed. It’s soft and puffy and oh so wonderfully warm looking. 

“Marcus! Where did you get this?” She runs her fingers over it ecstatically. “It’s not from the Ark!”

“It’s from Eligius,” he says. “Charmaine brought ten of them down today. There aren’t enough for everyone, so the council agreed to give them to the most vulnerable people for now.”

She raises puzzled eyes to him. “I’m considered vulnerable?”

“I put forward that you’ve been having trouble sleeping because of the cold, and that as you’re our doctor, it’s imperative that you’re fit and healthy,” he says with a grin. 

“You’re a lifesaver. Thank you, thank you.” She kisses him gratefully, and she’s so excited to try out the new comforter that she pulls him onto the bed, eager to feel its softness envelop her body. 

“Abby, no!” he cries out, trying to keep his balance as she topples him on top of her, and he manages to brace himself on his arm to stop himself falling. She feels his other hand fly to the back of her head, just as her body makes contact with the comforter.

“Oww!” she cries out as she lands on what seems like rocks and stones instead of a plump duvet. “What the _hell?_ Are there rocks in this comforter?”

“Not _in_ the comforter,” he says apologetically, pulling her up off the unexpectedly painful bed. _“Under_ it.”

She blinks at him in confusion. He’s put _rocks_ in their bed? “May I ask _why?”_

“To warm it up,” he explains. “I put them in the stove, and then put them in the bed. So hopefully you won’t feel quite as cold tonight.”

“Oh!” She’s a little speechless. It’s a great idea, but - “You could have told me,” she winces, rubbing her back where a particularly hard rock had dug into her.

“In my defence,” he says. “You didn’t really give me chance.”

He’s right, and she feels bad. “It was a lovely thought,” she says, putting her arms around him. “Thank you anyway, even though I’m going to be covered in bruises tomorrow.” 

He chuckles as he removes the rocks, and then they undress quickly and climb in. The rocks have indeed warmed the bed thoroughly, and it’s bliss. When she pulls the comforter over them both and he wraps his arms around her and holds her close, she thinks she might actually be in heaven. 

“Are you warm enough?” he asks.

“I’m perfect,” she sighs, and it’s true. It’s the first time she’s been truly warm in twenty-seven days. Not that she’s counting. 

They lie cocooned in blissful warmth, watching the snow falling through the small window of their bedroom, until they both fall into a deep sleep. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

It certainly looks magical. 

The village is covered in a thick blanket of glistening white snow, the rooftops plump and round. There’s a perfection in the still-untouched expanse of white that pleases her, and she admires the view from the kitchen window as they sip their coffee and eat protein bars for breakfast. She has an easy morning ahead of her, just some routine check ups with Eligius crew. Marcus, on the other hand, is going to the third village with Sinclair to oversee the final touches on the small meeting room and doctor’s surgery they have been building there. The sports tournaments had been very effective in uniting the two groups, but now that the cold weather was here it was important for the people to have a place to gather and spend time together or they would retreat into their houses and separate groups again. 

“Do you really have to go today?” she asks dubiously as she warms her hands around her coffee mug, trying to keep at bay the frigid air of the kitchen. “Can’t it wait?”

“Till when?” he grins, covering her hands with his. “This snow could be here for weeks, Abby.”

“You’re kidding.” _Weeks?_

“I’m afraid not.”

“Ugh.” The thought is not appealing, and she shivers involuntarily, more at the thought of the cold than the actual cold. She’s still warmed through from the night, though, and for the first time since winter arrived she doesn’t feel quite such an intense loathing for the season. 

That is, until she steps outside to go to work. For some reason, she’d assumed that being _frozen,_ the snow would be fairly solid under foot, but no. It’s as soft and fluffy as it looks, and she sinks into it up to her knees. She swears briefly under her breath as it fills her boots, but then grits her teeth and sets off in the direction of the medical centre. A weary sun is beginning to peak through the clouds and she concentrates on the way the snow sparkles like crystals to distract herself from the icy cold that’s seeping through her socks. 

Halfway down the village there’s a shout from her right, and she turns to see Charmaine waving and heading towards her, her long legs striding easily through the snow. There’s an uncharacteristic joy on her features as she falls into step beside Abby.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she says. “I always loved the snow. I remember New York in December. The snow in Central Park was magical.”

Her enthusiasm makes Abby smile, even though she can’t understand it. It always fascinates her to hear Diyoza talking about her life on Earth before the apocalypse. On the Ark they’d had plenty of information about the time, in the form of documentaries, news reports, and even movies which depicted life before the world ended, but listening to someone who actually lived there, who could describe the sights and smells and sounds, is fascinating. 

Of course, she tries not to focus too much on the fact that Charmaine was the most wanted terrorist in the country. At least she’d been fighting for a good cause, and anyway, it’s not like she and Marcus don’t have blood on their hands, if you counted all the people they’d floated in the name of ensuring the survival of the human race. 

“I don’t think I ever realised,” Abby comments, “just how different the temperatures could be. We used to see images of people in winter coats, and people nearly naked on the beach, but it’s difficult to imagine that you can actually still be freezing in a winter coat –”

“– and boiling hot in a bikini on the beach,” finishes Charmaine. 

“Exactly.”

“The best feeling in the world was soaking up the sun, then plunging into the sea to cool down,” goes on Charmaine nostalgically. “ As long as you watched out for the crabs and jellyfish.”

Abby has no idea what crabs and jellyfish are, but the idea of feeling so hot you need to emerge yourself in the ocean sounds like heaven right now. She wishes the valley was nearer to the coast, so they could experience the beach too. Images of herself and Marcus lying on the sand, soaking up the sun, his body tanned and naked next to hers fill her mind, until she remembers there _is_ no coast anymore, because the oceans are gone, burnt up in the death wave. All that’s left is this bitterly cold, ice-filled valley.

She’s suddenly swamped with guilt at her ingratitude again, and she swallows it down and focuses on everything she has. Summer will come, she tells herself, and she and Marcus will lie by the river in the sun, as they had on their first trip to Earth all those months ago, and put their feet in the water to cool down. The river isn’t deep enough for swimming, but that’s okay; neither of them knows how to swim anyway. 

They’ve reached the council house by now, so they say goodbye and go their separate ways. Abby sets about lighting the stove to warm medical, then makes herself tea, and she’s just thawing out when Clarke arrives, stamping her feet and blowing on her hands, her nose already pink and her eyes watering. The first patient arrives a few minutes later and Abby soon forgets the cold as she immerses herself in her work.

Her peace is interrupted by a radio call mid-morning, when she’s in the middle of stitching up a sliced open finger of one of the Arkers. It’s Marcus, calling from the third village, his tone urgent over the radio waves. 

“Abby, are you there?”

She drops the tissue forceps and snatches up the radio. “I’m here. Is everything okay?”

“There’s been an accident. Part of the roof has collapsed under the weight of the snow. We need a doctor, there are some injuries.” He stops. “Bellamy took a beam on the head, and he’s unconscious.”

Abby’s eyes snap to Clarke’s face, which is draining white. “Are _you_ okay?” she asks Marcus over the radio.

“I’m fine. It’s Bellamy who took the worst.”

“Okay. We’re on our way,” she says into the radio. 

“Be quick, Abby,” says Marcus, before the radio goes dead.

Clarke picks up her coat. “I’ll go,” she says. “You finish here and wake up Jackson.”

“Clarke, wait. You can’t go alone!”

“Yes, I can,” she says firmly. “I can be there by the time you finish here.” 

“Clarke!”

Her daughter's face is wrought with worry. “Mom, it’s Bellamy,” she says with finality, as if that should be enough to convince her. Abby nods, understanding, and with that Clarke grabs her medical bag and heads out the door. Abby finishes stitching the wound and sends the patient on his way with instructions to wake up Jackson, who had worked the night shift and was sleeping, and ask him to come and cover medical for a couple of hours. Poor guy, she thinks, but he was used to it on the Ark. Then she too pulls on her coat and sets off in the direction of the river, wrapping her scarf - actually a strip of blanket - around her head and face against the biting wind. The sky is overcast again, the thick grey clouds blocking out the warm morning sun. 

Clarke is nowhere in sight; she’s clearly run the whole way, and in the end Abby is grateful that she’s probably already there. The snow is deep and soft and the walk is hard work. She’s soon out of breath and working up a sweat despite the winter weather. There’s nothing worse than sweating on the inside and freezing on the outside, she thinks to herself. 

When she gets to the village she immediately spots the fallen roof. It had been under construction, and so not completely stable, but that wouldn’t have been a problem if it weren’t for the eight inches of snow which had fallen on it during the night and weighed it down. She stomps up to the doorway, and Marcus comes to meet her. 

“You made it,” he says, relief written all over his face. “Bellamy’s come round, so it’s probably just concussion, but he says he hurt his neck too –“

There’s something that’s not making sense here. Something is missing. “Where’s Clarke?”

“I don’t know,” says Marcus, slightly confused. I thought she was with you.”

“No.” She looks from him to the others, but their faces all register the same confusion. “She left before me. She should be here by now.” She’s trying not to panic. It’s only three quarters of a mile, she can’t have gone far. 

“I’ll go look for her,” says Marcus at once. “Maybe she got lost?”

“How can she have got lost? It’s one track along the river.”

Bellamy groans something indistinct, and they turn in his direction. Abby goes to him, checking the wound on his head, pulling her ophthalmoscope from her bag and shining it into his eyes. “What was that?” she asks with a frown. 

“Cort shut,” he mumbles. “There’s a cort shut. Maybe she went that way.”

Abby looks from Marcus to Sinclair, puzzled. “What’s a cort shut?” 

“He means a _shortcut,”_ says Sinclair. 

Oh. That’s news to her. “Which way?” she asks, just as Marcus says, “Where does it come out?”

Sinclair points towards the far end of the village. “Other end of the village. It cuts off the bend in the river, so it’s shorter, but the track isn’t as good.”

“I’ll find it,” Marcus says. He squeezes Abby’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’m sure she’s fine.”

Abby doesn’t share his optimism. “Go quickly,” she pleads. “If she’s hurt, she’ll freeze in this weather.”

He touches her cheek in reassurance, and without another word turns and heads out of the half-collapsed building. Abby watches him go, and then turns her attention back to Bellamy. He has a gash on his head which is going to need stitches, so she gets out her suture kit and gets to work. When she’s in doctor mode she’s always calm and focused, her hands as steady as ever, but there’s a knot of worry forming in her stomach. 

Bellamy is clearly suffering from concussion; his speech is slurred and confused and he’s having difficulties remembering simple facts, so once his head is stitched she calls two men to help him to one of the empty houses in the village. He’s in no state to walk back to Eden, so he’ll have to stay here tonight. Two more men have minor injuries, so she patches them up in no time and sends them home - they are inhabitants of this village - with instructions to rest, and promises to come and check on them before she leaves. 

Marcus has been gone half an hour now, and the panic which has been simmering beneath the surface is beginning to reach boiling point. Where the hell is he? Where’s Clarke? What can have happened to her?? She goes to check on Bellamy, to keep her mind occupied. Sinclair is with him, keeping him awake by grilling him about the different species of trees present in the valley, although Bellamy is failing miserably. Abby’s not sure if that’s the concussion, or if he’s just useless at remembering the names of trees. The stove is lit and she warms her hands over it, trying to calm her racing heart. They’re okay, she tells herself, clinging on to her hope. Marcus will find her, and he’ll bring her home. 

A hand on her shoulder makes her look up into Sinclair’s kind face. 

“I’ll go look for them,” he says. “They should be back by now.”

“No.” Her mind fills with images of them all chasing each other around the valley the way she and marcus had spent one afternoon chasing each other around the Ark. “Let’s just wait a while longer.” 

“It’s beginning to snow again,” says Sinclair in worried tones. “That’s –“

“– All the more reason for no one else to go out in it,” says Abby firmly. She can feel Sinclair’s gaze on her, and she specifically avoids looking at him, concentrating instead on her icy hands. 

“Abby…”

“I said, no.”

He shakes his head. “You know, you’re not on the council now.” He picks up his jacket, and with an apologetic shrug, heads out of the door, leaving her gaping in disbelief at how many people are going to go against her wishes and walk out on her today. Through the window she watches him cross the village and disappear into the woods, and only when she realises there’s silence in the room behind her does she remember Bellamy, and his concussion. She whips round to find the boy’s eyes closing as he struggles to stay awake.

“No no no no no,” she mutters, rushing to the bed. “Bellamy, wake up! Wake up!” She shakes him, and taps his face gently with her fingers, and his eyes flutter open. 

“Abby. I’m so tired.”

“I know,” she says. “But you can’t sleep. You have concussion. You have to stay awake.”

“Okay,” he mumbles. 

“Talk to me. Tell me… tell me what you like most about Earth,” she says, blurting out the first idea that comes into her head.

“The most beautiful thing on Earth,” says Bellamy slowly. “Is Clarke. Do you know her?”

Abby suppresses a smile. “I do.” 

“I love her,” says Bellamy. “Do you think I should tell her?”

“I think we should always be honest about how we feel,” says Abby carefully. “Don’t you?”

“Absolutely.” Bellamy nods energetically, then winces at the pain in his head. “Is that what you did with Kane?”

“Of course.”

“What did he say?” 

She smiles to herself, recalling the way she’d told him over and over that she loved him and his response had simply been “God, you’re stubborn.” That’s probably not what Bellamy wants to hear right now though. 

“I don’t really remember,” she says vaguely. “I expect he said it back.”

“Aw. Sweet.” Bellamy falls into silence, and Abby tries to think of another question to ask him, struggling to think clearly through the fog of worry in her head, but at that moment she hears a shout outside. She goes to the window, and sees Marcus, Clarke and Sinclair walking through the snow, laughing and talking as if nothing had happened. Abby opens the door, her eyes wide with disbelief. 

“Clarke! What the hell happened?”

“I took the shortcut,” her daughter explains, “and at one point my foot got caught in this kind of metal contraption under the snow.”

“Probably some kind of animal trap,” put in Marcus. “Attached to the ground, so she couldn’t move till we freed her.”

“Oh God. Are you hurt?”

“No, it just wrecked my boot a bit. Look.” Clarke shows Abby her boot, which has tears in it like it’s been chewed by teeth, then heads for the bed. “Bellamy! Are you okay?”

“Clarke!” Bellamy beams at her with eyes full of love, and Abby, Marcus and Sinclair look at each other awkwardly. 

“He has concussion, Clarke, so he needs to stay awake,” Abby explains.

“I’ll stay with him,” says Clarke at once. “You should get back. It’s not fair for Jackson to have to cover medical all day when he worked all night.”

Abby studies her daughter for a moment, and then pulls her to one side, out of earshot of the three men. “If you stay,” she says solemnly, “you have to remember that for tonight, he is your patient, and as such, there are certain boundaries that we don’t cross. You understand that, right?”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “Of course, mom. Do you think I’m that unprofessional?”

“I think you’re eighteen,” says Abby with a smile. “And contrary to what you might think, being eighteen is not such a distant memory for me.”

Clarke blushes to the roots of her blonde hair. “Ew, mom!”

Abby ignores her. “Just keep him awake for at least three hours, and check that his pupils are not dilated and that he can walk and talk without difficulty before he sleeps. I’ll be back tomorrow to check on him.”

“Sure thing,” says Clarke, dragging a chair to sit next to Bellamy. Marcus throws another log in the stove, and Abby puts on her coat and scarf. 

“I’m going to have a meeting with the team about the collapsed roof,” states Sinclair. “You staying, Kane?”

“No, I’ll walk Abby back,” says Marcus with a glance out of the window, where the snow is falling in thick fast flurries. “We don’t want any more mishaps today.”

“Sure. I can fill you in tomorrow.” And with a last nod at them all, he heads out the door, bowing his head against the onslaught of snowflakes. 

Abby and Marcus say goodbye to Clarke and Bellamy, with last instructions to Clarke to monitor Bellamy and check on the other injured patients before she goes to bed, and then set off towards the river and the main track back to their village. The wind is whipping up into a regular blizzard, and Marcus wraps his arm around her as they bend into the wind in order to stay on their feet. 

“Have I ever told you,” Abby says through gritted teeth, the snow stinging her eyes, “that I hate winter?”

She feels rather hears his chuckle, his body giving a small shake against hers. “You may have mentioned it, yes.”

“Charmaine was telling me about soaking up the sun on the beach. It sounds like heaven.”

“Anything sounds like heaven compared to this,” he replies. “Even rain, or fog.”

She doesn’t really like the sound of that either, but it sounds less _painful_ at least. They trudge through the snow, clinging to each other for warmth and stability, and the three quarters of a mile seems eternal. 

Halfway along the river the blizzard intensifies to the point that they can no longer see where they’re going, and Marcus pulls her towards some rocks which offer some shelter from the wind at least. He wraps his arms around her and buries his face in her hair, and they huddle together, shaking with cold and swearing under their breaths.

“Isn’t this where we’re supposed to find a cave to shelter in?” Abby says with a bitter chuckle.

“There’s never a cave when you need one,” he says.

“We would build a fire and take our wet clothes off to dry and then –“

“I am _not_ having sex in a cave,” he says at once, understanding immediately where she is going with this, and she giggles. 

“Why not? It’s romantic.”

“It’s cheesy,” he retorts and she laughs again, shaking against his chest.

“Spoilsport.”

“It’s _cold,”_ he says. “We would freeze.”

“But it’s also _hot,”_ she smirks. 

“Such an exhibitionist,” he says, wrapping his arms more tightly around her, and she snuggles deeper into his neck. “God, your nose is freezing.”

“And yours isn’t?”

“I don’t know. I can’t feel it anymore.”

“Poor baby.” 

They stand in silence for a while, focusing only on breathing and staying warm, and she feels a lightness in her heart that they are able to laugh and joke about their dire situation. It alleviates the sense of ingratitude that has been plaguing her for weeks. This is the key, she thinks. No matter how bad things get, they need to keep their sense of humour, because no matter what they always have each other. She wonders idly if he’s been feeling this guilt too.

“Marcus?” she ventures after a few minutes. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Do you ever feel guilty? For hating the cold, and the snow, when we should just be grateful for being here?”

“No,” he says. “Do you?”

She sighs. “All the time.”

“Oh Abby.” He’s silent for a moment. “Did you love everything about life on the Ark?” 

She shakes her head against his shoulder. “I hated a lot of things.”

“Same,” he says. “And yet, we were lucky to be alive there too, among the last few thousand survivors of the human race, when seven billion people had lost their lives in the war.”

She hadn’t thought of it that way. “You’re right.”

“I don’t think we should ever stop _feeling_ things,” he says. “Whether it’s positive or negative. It’s part of what makes us human.”

“Like hope,” she says softly. 

“Yes. Hoping for something good implies a certain degree of dissatisfaction with the status quo, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.” She pulls him even closer. He always knows the right thing to say. “Thank you.”

“As long as we never lose sight of what we do have,” he says. “I think we can grumble away when our toes are numb from cold. There’s good and bad in everything. Not all that glitters is gold.”

Abby chuckles, thinking of the way the snow glittered in the sun and then poured into her boots and froze her feet. “Absolutely.” The storm has died down a little, and she takes advantage to raise her head to look him in the eyes. “I love you,” she says, and her heart melts as always to see the happiness on his face. 

“I love you too,” he says, bending his head to kiss her, his mouth as warm as the sun on her skin on that day they’d laid by the river. 

“I think we can carry on home, now,” he says when they part. “The wind has died down.” He takes her hand and leads her back to the track, and she wraps her arm around his waist as they set off down the river. 

“I’m so cold I don’t think I’ll ever be warm again.” She stomps her feet, trying to get the blood circulating to her toes.

“We’ll see about that,” he says with a twinkle in his eye. “If you can stay awake, that is. I don’t think my ego could cope with you falling asleep again.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?”

In response he just throws his head back and laughs, and she laughs too, and there’s a lightness in their step as they carry on down the track towards home.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday Val! Hope you enjoy this chapter and have a great day! ❤️

The next day is Sunday, and they wake up to bright sunshine and a cornflower blue sky. Through the window Abby can see the snow-clad trees, the plants wearing their frozen white mantel with dignified resignation. She rolls over underneath the thick comforter to see if Marcus is awake, and is surprised to find the bed empty. It’s okay, though, she can hear movements from the kitchen; spoons clinking on mugs, and the gentle bubbling of boiling water. She stretches in anticipation; breakfast is on its way. 

Sure enough, a few minutes later Marcus appears with two mugs, his hair tousled and sticking up, his eyes heavy with sleep, a lazy smile lighting up his face when he sees she’s awake. He’s a picture of male beauty in her eyes and she immediately leans towards him to give him a kiss in exchange for her coffee.

“Thank you,” she says, settling back against the pillows with a sigh of contentment and taking a long sip of coffee. He joins her in bed and they drink in silence, both fixated on the view from the window. 

“It’s a lovely day,” she comments after a while. “Do you think this means the snow will melt?” She can’t help but hope, and after all, how can the snow resist the warm sun beating down on it all day? 

He chuckles. “I hate to break it to you, but it’s _freezing_ outside. It must be at least ten degrees below zero. The snow is probably more solid than ever.”

She scowls. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I wish I could.”

“How can it be even colder when it’s sunny? That doesn’t make sense.” This place will never cease to confound her with its weird meteorological phenomena. 

“The clouds act as a kind of blanket,” he explains. “Keeping the heat in.”

 _Heat._ That's a strange way to describe the glacial temperatures they’d experienced yesterday, but she understands what he’s trying to say. 

“Well, I guess I won’t be leaving this bed all day then,” she says with an air of satisfied righteousness. 

“It’s Sunday. We have nothing to get up for.”

There are voices outside as the village comes to life, people hailing good morning from their houses, making their way to the shower block. It’s the sound of life, of civilisation, and she knows it warms Marcus’s heart in the same way it does hers after the months of lonely silence on the Ark. She finishes her coffee and he takes her mug and places it on the nightstand, then turns over and takes her in his arms. 

“The important question,” he says with a twinkle in his eye, “is what are we going to do to keep ourselves amused all day?”

“That,” she says, pulling him on top of her, “is a very good question. I have no idea.”

He places a soft kiss on her lips. “You don’t?”

“I guess we could play chess,” she says, and her breath hitches slightly as his mouth moves along her jaw. 

“You know I can’t concentrate on chess in bed.”

“Hmmm. That might be a problem, then.” She gives a little moan as his hand finds her breast, grazing her nipple. “I think chess is our only option.”

“Think harder,” he murmurs between kisses down her neck, his hand wandering lower. “I’ll give you a clue.” And he brushes his thumb over her sex, sending a ripple of pleasure through her. 

“Ohhh,” she breathes, feigning understanding. _“That._ Yeah, I guess that could be an option…” she trails off as his fingers slip inside her panties, and her body quivers under his touch. 

A loud scream outside, followed by laughing and clapping, rouses her from her bliss. “What the –?”

“Ignore it,” he says. “It’s just the kids having fun.”

She doesn’t need much persuading, and soon she’s lost once again in the dizzying pleasure his fingers are bringing her. 

Until a longer, more drawn out scream startles them both. 

“Let me just see what’s happening,” she says with a frown, slipping out from underneath him, and he huffs in frustration. Abby tiptoes into the kitchen and peers out of the window which faces the village. “Oh! They’re sliding down that small bank behind Callie’s house on a plank of wood.” She grimaces. “I hope they don’t hurt themselves.”

“They’ll be fine,” says Marcus from the bedroom. “Come back to bed.”

She watches for a moment longer, but they seem to be sliding quite gently down the slope, so she goes back to bed, this time climbing on top of Marcus and leaning down to kiss him hard. 

“Oh!” He grins. “This is another very good idea.”

“I’m actually full of great ideas,” she says as she wriggles down his body to free his cock. He’s already hard, and she places a kiss on the tip before taking him in her mouth.

“You really are,” he sighs, and it’s the last thing he says for a while as her mouth devours him hungrily. 

She can feel him getting closer, and before long he stops her with his hand on her head, letting her know how close he is, but she just says, ”It’s okay,” and so he lets himself come with a shuddering sigh just as another scream pierces the air, accompanied by yells of pain and shouts of “Somebody call Dr Griffin!”

“Fuck,” they groan in unison. 

“I knew it,” she grumbles, climbing off the bed and pulling her clothes on.

“Can’t Jackson go?”

“He worked twenty-four hours yesterday,” she says. “It’s okay. It’s probably nothing.” Fully dressed, she leans over him to kiss him. “How was it?” she asks, searching his eyes. 

“Fantastic. Be quick, I need to repay the favour.”

She chuckles and kisses him again, then heads out of the door, pulling her hair up into a ponytail as she goes. 

He’s right. It’s even colder outside, although the snow is even more beautiful for the sun on it, making it sparkle like glitter. She heads towards the group of people on the bank behind Callie’s house, where one of the Eligius men, Jonathan, is sitting on the snow clutching his wrist. 

“Let me see,” she says, crouching down beside him. “What happened?”

“The plank hit a lump in the snow and I flew into the air. Landed on it like this,” - he bends his other wrist to show how he had landed - “and then I heard a crack.”

“Can you wiggle your fingers?” 

Jonathan tries, and winces in pain. The wrist is already beginning to swell and go purple. 

“It might be broken,” she says. “We need to X-ray it. Come on, let’s get you to medical.” She stands and looks around at the rest of the group, as Jonathan gets to his feet. “Please be careful,” she says authoritatively. “We don’t want any more broken bones.” She’s just beginning to walk away with Jonathan when one of the older members of the group speaks. 

“I told you standing up was a bad idea. It’s not a freaking snowboard,” he mutters, and Abby rounds on them at once. 

“You were _standing up???”_ she asks incredulously, and the kids shuffle their feet and look ashamed, which is confirmation enough for her. “Okay, no standing up. That’s just asking for a broken neck.” She shoots them all a warning glare before turning and helping Jonathan to medical, where the X-ray does indeed show a distal radius fracture. She glowers at the image for a second and storms off to find a wrist brace and sling, then gives him some painkillers and tells him to go and rest for a couple of hours, and she’ll come and check on him later.

When Jonathan has gone, Abby closes up medical again and sets off through the village, her mind full of Marcus waiting in bed to warm her up, her body tingling with anticipation. Thank God for him, she thinks, as her heart fills with love and a delicious heat forms in her belly.

“Dr Griffin!”

“Abby!”

She stops, closing her eyes in disbelief. This cannot be happening. She turns around to find Raven coming towards her, blood pouring from her temple.

“Raven!! What the hell happened?”

“I rolled off it because I thought I was going to crash, and my head hit a rock under the snow,” says the girl. 

Abby lifts her hand away from her head to find a sizable gash. “Come on. That’s going to need stitches.” With a sigh she leads Raven back to medical, Raven apologizing profusely all the way. 

Abby disinfects the wound and puts three stitches in it.. “That makes you and Bellamy with nearly matching head wounds,” she says drily. “Let’s hope it doesn’t become a fashion. How do you feel?”

“A bit groggy,” says Raven. “But that might have been the moonshine I drank last night.” 

Abby tuts in disapproval. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

Raven grins at her cheekily. “I figure I’m allowed some fun after I pretty much single-handedly saved the human race.”

Abby can’t help laughing. “I guess you do,” she says as she covers the stitches with a dressing. “But try not to get too big-headed, or you’ll pop your stitches.”

She does some simple concussion tests, but Raven seems to be fine, so she sends her off with a strict, “No more sledging, but no sleeping. Play cards or something for a couple of hours,” and then closes up medical _again_ and makes her way back to Marcus.

This time she makes it home, to find Marcus still dozing in bed. She quickly undresses, then wakes him up with a kiss. He immediately pulls her on top of him with a groan of delight which quickly becomes one of protest when he realizes how cold she is again.

“You’re freezing!” he says, warming her skin with his hands. “What happened? You’ve been _ages_.”

“Jonathan fractured his wrist, and then Raven cut her head open on a rock. Can you believe the kids were standing up on the plank of wood? Snowboarding, or something, they called it.”

“Oh God. Did you yell at them? That’s so dangerous.”

“I did. I just hope they listen to me.”

“Oh they will,” he chuckles. “They’re all secretly terrified of you.”

“Hmmm.” She’s not sure how much she believes that.

“Now,” he says, freeing her hair from her ponytail so that it falls around her face. “Where were we?” 

“I think it was your turn to repay the favour,” she says, and he does, twice, first with his mouth, making her come so hard she sees stars, and then pulling her astride him and sliding inside her until she’s warm and weak and breathless and very, very glad that Marcus had nailed the bed to the wall to stop it banging.

“Hmmm,” she sighs as she lies on his chest afterwards. “That was amazing. Definitely worth the wait.”

“Definitely,” he says, and even without looking at him she can tell that he’s gazing up at the ceiling with that goofy expression on his face, like he always does after they have sex. She finds it adorable, like he still can’t quite believe his luck. He trails his fingers up and down her back, making goosebumps fly over her skin, and she feels her eyes closing, lulled by the gentle rise and fall of his chest. 

She must drift off, because suddenly she’s lying on a sandy beach, the sun warming her skin and cool gentle waves washing over her feet. Next to her, Marcus is propped up on one elbow, tanned and tousled and gorgeous. He’s rubbing a cool lotion into her back and the contrast with the heat of the sun is delicious. She burrows her fingers into the hot sand, losing herself in the infinite grains slipping between her fingers, and tries to ignore the cries of “Abby! Dr Griffin!” from the kids playing in the sea.

“Abby.” This time it’s Marcus’s voice, and it’s rumbling under her cheek. “Abby. I hate to say it, but I think you’re needed again.”

Her eyes fly open in disbelief. Sure enough, the shouts of “Dr Griffin! Dr Griffin!” are getting closer, and the next thing she knows someone is banging on the door of their cabin.

“Jesus,” she mutters sleepily. “What _now.”_

“I’ll go and see what it is,” he says. “You stay here a moment.” He rolls her off him and dresses quickly, and she burrows under the comforter, enjoying the last few seconds of sleepy warmth, because she knows she’s going to be dragged out into the cold again to deal with some idiotic kid who has probably bruised his thumb by hurtling down a slippery slope on a piece of wood.

She must be psychic. “Abby, it’s Finn. He landed funny on his hand, and his thumb is swelling up. He’s worried it might be dislocated.”

She throws back the covers in disgust and climbs out of bed. “Ugh.” She glares at Marcus, even though she knows it’s not his fault, and pulls on her clothes so roughly she doesn’t realize her sweater is back to front.

“Your sweater is back to front,” he says, his eyes twinkling.

She rolls her eyes and tears it off to turn it round, but as she walks past him he catches her arm and pulls her to him. 

“Hey,” he says. “Come here.” He wraps his arms around her. “I love you. You’ve got this.”

“Thank you,” she says tiredly, but she appreciates his support. 

“I’ll make it up to you later, I promise.” He gives her a kiss, then pushes her gently towards the door, and with a last grumble she heads out into the cold air and Finn Collins’ swollen thumb. 

  
  


…………….

  
  


After she’s gone, Marcus is tempted to go back to bed, the grey comforter luring him with its soft plumpness, but he feels bad for Abby and anyway, it’s no fun lying in bed without her. He straightens the comforter and rinses out their breakfast mugs, then makes a cup of hot tea and sits down to go over the plans for the piping system which will bring running water to the houses. It’s a project which is close to his heart, because it means each house will be able to have a small bathroom, and he knows how happy that will make Abby. 

When she’s not back in an hour, he wraps up and heads down to the medical centre to see what’s going on, because he’s pretty sure it doesn’t take an hour to fix up a broken thumb, if it’s even broken. 

When he gets there two people come out of medical, one with a bandage on his head, and a woman limping slightly. He frowns at them briefly before pushing open the door, and he almost wonders if he’s stepped back in time, because he hasn’t seen Abby this irate since their pre-cryo days. Her eyes are flashing and she’s clearly taking out her frustration on the utensils she’s cleaning, crashing them onto the stainless steel trays as if they were personally responsible. 

“The sledging has to stop,” she’s ranting to Callie, who throws him a grateful look when he comes in. “This is ridiculous. I’ve already stitched two head wounds, patched up a twisted knee and a sprained thumb, and fixed a fractured wrist, and it’s not even eleven am –“

“I’ll give them a warning to be more careful,” says Callie. “But it’s good for the morale that they’re having fun. I don’t want to put an end to it already.” She looks to Marcus for support. “What do you think?”

“I agree,” he says. “I’ll talk to them, if you like, but I don’t really want to ban anything just yet…”

Abby glares at them both as if they’ve lost their minds. “We don’t have the _resources_ for injuries of this kind! Or do you expect me just to pop to the mall down the road to stock up?”

He nods; she has a point. “You’re right. We’ll put a stop to it for today at least. They’ve had a couple of hours’ fun. They can find something else to amuse themselves for the afternoon.”

“Thank you,” she says, calming instantly, the utensils no longer clattering noisily as she puts them away, although she’s still muttering something about “Damn snow,” under her breath. 

“I’ll go,” says Callie. “Maybe they can build snowmen or something. That can’t be dangerous, right?”

“Right,” agrees Marcus. “Tell them the best snowman wins an extra ration of whatever they want. Coffee, or sugar, or food... they can choose.”

“Great idea! They’ll love that. I’ll organise teams.” And with that Callie heads out of the door, leaving Marcus and Abby alone. He watches her in silence for a moment while she finishes putting the last of her equipment away, trying to judge her mood, but when she comes to wrap her arms around his waist the flashing has gone from her eyes, replaced with a sparkling warmth. He’s glad she’s no longer raging, but he can’t deny he misses her fiery temperament a little. She’s incredibly hot when she’s fired up. 

Right now she’s looking at him with loving amusement, and he frowns down at her.

“What?”

“Really?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. “A _snowman_ competition?”

“Shut up,” he says, stifling a grin. “I did it for you.”

Her smile is growing wider by the minute. “I know. And I’m grateful. But –“

“What?”

“I can’t quite get over Councillor Kane organising a snowman competition.”

He laughs too. “Well, I’m not organising it. Callie is. She and Charmaine can choose the winner.” 

“Oh. You don’t feel like spending the afternoon judging snowmen?”

He tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Nope. I have other plans. You and I are going for a walk.”

“In the snow?” she says doubtfully.

“Yes. I have a surprise for you.”

She doesn’t look convinced. “In the _snow?”_ she repeats. 

“Do you trust me?” 

“Of course I do,” she says at once, and his heart lifts. The months they spent alone on the Ark have given them a blind faith in each other which goes beyond the realms of an average trusting relationship. 

“Good.” He places a kiss of gratitude on her lips. “Then come for a walk with me, because I promise you, it’s going to be _amazing.”_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

They set off after lunch, wrapped up in easily removable layers in case the sun is warmer than they expect. Marcus has a backpack but he’s refused to tell her what's in it beyond “snacks, and other necessary items,” which makes her shake her head and smile at his secrecy. Pulling her hat down over her ears, she takes his hand and they make their way through the village, where strange lumpy figures are beginning to sprout all over the place. The sight makes her smile, although the idea of scooping and molding the snow with her bare hands is less appealing. 

To her surprise they don’t take the track along the river, but rather cross the river on a little makeshift bridge made of planks of wood balanced on rocks. It’s a little shaky but they make it across, and then he leads her along a path that leads through the forest in gentle ascent. 

There’s less snow under the trees, which makes walking easier, and she has to admit that now she’s away from the shrieking kids and the constant dread of hearing her name called, she’s beginning to relax. She hadn’t realised that she was so stressed until she’s immersed in nature with only the sound of the snow crunching under their feet and their panting breaths interrupting the silence. 

The realisation surprises her. After the months spent with Marcus in the deadly silence of the Ark, she thought she would never crave peace and quiet again; that she would always be happy to have a steady rumble of background noise and chatter in her life. The way the silence of the forest is soothing her now is unexpected, and she can only attribute it to the absolute peace she’d found with Marcus on the Ark. 

The path begins to climb more steeply, and she can feel sweat prickling on her neck and at her temples. She debates taking off a layer, but decides against it. The sun is beating down but the air is still fizzy fresh on her nose and cheeks. She wonders how much further it is. They’re going to be out of the valley in a minute. 

She’s roused from her thoughts by something cold and wet hitting her neck and sliding down her back, and she lets out a shriek of disgust. 

Marcus stops and turns back to her. “What is it?”

“Snow!” she huffs in disbelief. “It went down my back! Oh  _ God  _ that’s cold!” The water is trickling down her spine and pooling at the small of her back. ”How did that happen?”

“It’s falling off the trees,” he says. “Come here, let me get it out.” 

She turns around and he puts his hand - which is also cold - down her back and scoops out the snow, but most of it has already melted and is soaking into her underwear. 

“Your hand is cold!” she yelps and he quickly withdraws it and gathers her to him, rubbing his hands up and down her back in an attempt to both dry and warm her skin. She still can’t believe her bad luck and it doesn’t help that she can feel his body shaking with soft chuckles. 

“Marcus!” She slaps him lightly on the chest in annoyance but it just makes him laugh harder. 

“I’m so glad you find it funny,” she mutters, but the truth is his amusement always infects her too and she’s already beginning to smile. 

“I have a feeling,” he says. “That the snow dislikes you as much as you dislike the snow.”

“Hmmmph,” says Abby, unimpressed. He tilts her chin up with his finger and kisses her, his lips warm and his tongue chasing hers, and she feels her spirits lifting a little, until another lump of snow lands on his head and slides down his nose, and they both end up with mouthfuls of the stuff. Laughing, they wipe their faces and give up on the kiss, instead turning to carry on up the path. 

“Any guesses about where we’re going?” 

“Not one,” she says. “And anyway, I don’t want to guess. I like surprises.”

He smiles down at her, his eyes crinkling softly. “Good.”

After another ten minutes’ climb, the path comes out onto a rocky ledge, and they stop and gaze in wonder at the view. The whole valley is spread out before them, cloaked in white, the three villages clearly visible between the trees. Spires of smoke are coming out of some chimneys, and they can see the small back shapes of people moving around. 

“Wow!” she breathes. “It’s beautiful. And much bigger than I thought.”

“It is.”

“Sometimes I still can’t believe we’re here,” she says with a slight shake of her head. “Sometimes I wake up and think it must all have been a dream.”

“It’s not, though,” he says. “We’re really here.”

“Yeah. Dreams do come true.” 

“We have everything we ever wanted.” His face radiates happiness and gratitude, and she’s reminded of the time on the Ark when she’d had a fever, and he’d lulled her to sleep by describing Earth to her.  _ The only thing more beautiful than the scenery is the woman standing next to me,  _ he’d said.  _ She has hope in her eyes, and love in her heart, and she’s so so happy to be there.  _ The description fits him perfectly now, the emotions written clearly on his handsome face. She threads her fingers through his, and they gaze at the view in silence for a few minutes. It’s helping her to put things into perspective a little; she’ll never, ever feel anything but distaste for the snow and the cold, but the emotions are fleeting, superficial compared to the immense joy she feels at being on Earth. 

He brings their hands to his lips and kisses her knuckles. “Abby.”

“Yes?” She drags her gaze away from the view to look at him. 

“I have something to ask you.” 

He’s smiling, but there’s a nervousness in his eyes that wasn’t there before, and her heart constricts. “Marcus, honey. What is it?”

He swallows. “I just wondered,” he says. “Now that we’re on Earth, and we have our little house, and we aren’t trying to stop the Ark from falling apart around us –“

She nods, wondering where he’s going with this. 

“– And we have plenty of air to breathe, and the gravity doesn’t do weird things every ten minutes.” He stops to take a breath, and his expression relaxes as his eyes scan her face, although his cheeks are tinged with pink. “I just wondered,” he says, in a voice not much more than a whisper. “If you would be my wife.”

Her throat tightens. “Marcus.” There’s such tenderness in his smile, such hope in his eyes that for a moment she’s unable to speak, so she just pulls him to her and presses her lips to his. He wraps his arms around her, squeezing her to him, and when she pulls away there are tears pricking at her eyes. 

“Is that a yes?”

“Of course it is!” she laughs, and his face breaks into a wide, joyous smile. He fishes something from his pocket, and then takes her left hand in his, and she’s stunned to see that he has a ring which he slides onto her finger. She raises her hand to her face to examine it. It’s not a wedding band, of course, just a simple ring with a small heart on it. She knows engagement rings used to have precious stones, like diamonds, but things of that kind were unobtainable on the Ark. “This is beautiful,” she says, raising her eyes to his. “Where did you get it?”

“It was my grandmother’s. My mom gave it to me when I turned twenty-one. She always hoped I’d settle down and get married.” His face takes on a slightly sadder countenance. “I must have been such a disappointment to her.”

The lump forms in her throat again. “No,” she says with conviction. “She was proud of you, and she loved you. And she respected your choices. It wasn’t easy on the Ark, with such a limited population, to find the right person.”

“Yeah.” He’s silent for a moment, his face unreadable. “It’s strange to realise now,” he says at last. “That the right person was always there. She was just married to someone else.”

She gives him a sad smile. “Right. I wonder what she’d think.” She wraps her arms around him and settles her head on his shoulder. “I love you,” she sighs, and he doesn’t say anything but his arms tighten around her, and it’s all the answer she needs. 

After a couple of minutes he releases her, and bends to pick up the backpack. “We should get going.”

Her heart falls slightly. She’s in no rush to get back to the village, where there is always some inexplicable force dragging her away from him. “Okay. Let’s go see who won the snowman competition.”

He blinks. “We’re not going back yet, Abby. Did you think I dragged you up here just for this?”

“Just for  _ this?  _ You just asked me to marry you in the most beautiful spot in the whole valley. It’s hardly nothing!” She’s baffled as to what else he has planned for them up here. Unless – “Oh! Marcus.”

“What?”

“I was kidding about having sex in a cave.”

“What?”

“Isn’t that what we’re going to do?”

“Abby.” He takes her by the shoulders. “Why would I drag you up a mountain to have sex in a cold damp cave when we have our nice comfortable bed at home?”

She can’t fault his logic. “So what are we going to do then?”

“You’ll see. Come on, we have another few minutes’ walk.”

  
  


…………

  
  


The few minutes’ walk turns out to be twenty, and she’d be getting grumpy if it weren’t for the ring on her finger keeping a small smile on her face and making it impossible to be annoyed with him. She can’t stop thinking about his proposal, her tummy flipping every time she replays the words “be my wife” in her head. 

When the path begins to even out he stops and turns to her. “Wait here a moment. I think we’ve arrived.”

She does as she’s told, and he disappears from view for a couple of minutes, only to come back with an excited grin on his face. 

“We’re here! Okay, I need you to close your eyes.” 

“Close my eyes?”

“Yes. I’ll guide you.”

“What?”

“Trust me. Close your eyes.” He puts an arm around her shoulder and walks her forward twenty paces or so. “Right. You need to step up. That’s it. Stop there but don’t open your eyes.”

“Marcus… what’s going on?” She’s not used to relinquishing control, and it’s unnerving. She feels him moving away from her and then he’s back, with his hands on her shoulders. 

“I’m going to take your boots and socks off. Is that okay?” 

“Here?” She can still picture the crunchy, frozen snow all around them. “Isn’t it a bit cold?”

“It’ll be fine,” he reassures her, bending to undo and remove her right boot, then slips her sock off too. “It’s okay, you can put your foot on the ground.” She’s surprised when her foot comes into contact with a smooth flat rock which is notably less icy than the snow around them. In fact, it’s almost tepid. He removes her other boot and sock, and then she’s standing barefoot, eyes still tightly closed.

He cups her face in his big warm hands and kisses her, long and slow, and when she’s beginning to turn liquid he breaks the kiss. “Okay, now your jacket. Eyes closed still.”

“Marcus,” she whimpers. “I’m going to freeze.”

“Do you trust me?”

“I’m beginning to have second thoughts,” she mutters, and he gives a little chuckle. He wraps his arms around her waist, drawing her to him, and bends his head to her ear, his breath warm against her skin. 

“I promise I will never, ever do anything to make you distrust me,” he says, his voice low and sweet. “I love you, and I want to make you happy.” He presses a warm kiss below her ear. “Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” she breathes, tilting her head to allow him access to her neck, and he continues kissing her softly as his fingers undo the buttons of her jacket and slip it off her shoulders. The cold air hits her and she shivers but he’s ready with his arms around her, pulling her against him, and she soaks up his body heat greedily. 

He runs his hands over her back, transmitting his warmth to her, then brings them to the waistband of her pants. “I need to take your pants off too,” he says. 

“Here?” Shoes and jacket is one thing, cold notwithstanding, but taking her pants off is verging on indecency. “What if somebody sees?”

“There’s nobody here. Just me. And anyway, I thought you were a sex-in-a-cave kind of girl?”

She gives a little laugh. He has a point. “Okay. Pants too, I guess. But this better be worth it.”

He fiddles with the button and zipper and then slides her jeans down her legs, and she steps out of them with a shiver. 

“Now I’m cold. You better have a really good way of warming me up.”

“Oh, I do,” he says. “Two seconds while I catch up.” There is the sound of clothes being removed and discarded, and when she reaches for him her hands are met with the bare skin of his chest. He’s naked except for his boxers. In the middle of the snow.

“Marcus, what the hell…why are you naked? We are having sex in a cave, aren’t we? You forgot the fire to keep us warm though.”

“Come here. Arms up.” She does as she’s told, and he pulls her sweater and T-shirt over her head, leaving only her tank top. She lets out a long hiss, but before she can protest he’s taking her hand and leading her forward. “Okay. Step down. I’ve got you.”

She freezes for a moment, unsure of what’s coming, but then his words replay in her head.  _ I promise I will never ever do anything to make you distrust me.  _ And she steps down into his arms, and into deep water that is so wonderfully warm that the ache of cold instantly flees from her bones and muscles.

“Oh!” she breathes in delight.

“Open your eyes,” he murmurs, turning her in his arms so that she’s facing away from him, but drawing her back against his chest. “Look.”

She opens her eyes, and the sight that greets her is magical. They are in a deep pool of crystal clear water which is so warm that steam is evaporating off it into the cold winter air. All around the ground and trees are white with snow, and the sun is still dancing over the treetops in the deep blue sky. 

“Worth it?” he murmurs.

“It’s amazing,” she says, running her hands through the water. “How can this water be so hot? It’s warmer than the baths we had on the Ark.”

“It’s a natural hot spring,” he explains. “The water comes out of the ground at more than a hundred and fifty degrees. By the time it reaches this pool it’s cooled to just over a hundred. Perfect for warming cold bodies.”

“It’s wonderful.” She relaxes back into his arms, relishing the sensation of being completely submerged in hot water for the first time since they’d left the Ark. “I’ve missed this.”

“Me too,” he says. “Be careful, don’t get your hair wet, or you’ll be cold when you get out.”

She turns over to face him, linking her legs around his waist. “After a very stressful start,” she says, “today has taken a definite turn for the better.”

“Yeah?” His mouth lifts in that lazy smile of his that makes her melt every time, and before he can say anything else she covers his mouth with hers, tangling her fingers into his slightly damp hair. She pours into the kiss all her love for him, her appreciation for everything he does for her, and a silent thank you to whoever had discovered this hot spring. 

They spend a blissful half an hour in the pool, which unlike the bath never gets cold because it is constantly replenished with water straight from the spring. When their fingers are beginning to wrinkle Marcus climbs out with instructions to her to stay under the water, and Abby discovers that the contents of the backpack include a towel, two blankets, dry underwear for them both, and enough kindling to light a small fire. He dries himself quickly and dresses, and then lights the fire, so that when Abby gets out there’s a warm blaze to dry and dress next to, and she’s so warmed through she doesn’t even notice the snow all around them. 

He’s truly thought of everything. He’s even brought water to make tea and some crackers, knowing they’d be hungry after the walk and the swim in the hot spring. They sit on the warm rocks with the blankets around them, their hands wrapped around mugs of hot tea, while the snow recedes from the crackling fire. 

Marcus lifts his arm and Abby leans into him. “Did you enjoy it?” he asks between mouthfuls of tea.

“It was perfect. I loved it.” She gives him a smile which is almost a grimace. “I’m sorry for being such a grump these last few days.”

“It’s okay,” he replies, dropping a kiss on her head. “But I should warn you I’m going to have this put in the marriage vows. I Marcus, do take you Abby, to be my wife, to love and to cherish and keep warm when it’s snowing, till death parts us –”

She bursts into laughter. “You’re kidding, right?” 

“Absolutely not,” he grins. “Trust me.”

She shakes her head and settles against him, watching the fire slowly dying out, and as his warmth spreads through her body she thinks that maybe, just maybe, the winters won’t be so bad after all. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Andrea (Talassan) for your invaluable help with brainstorming and planning this fic!


End file.
